The Defense
by Jack Lecter
Summary: CHAPTER SIX UP! ANGEL BROODS, SPIKE FURTHERS HIS ULTIMATE GOALS! DEFINITELY ANGELFAITH IN NATURE! Post NFA, lives have been forever altered, the government is informed about the supernatural and having a panic response, Faith is running, Angel is trying
1. Prologue

The Defense  
  
By The Shadower  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned it, those idiots would never have cancelled it.  
  
Dedicated to Gemini-Moon1, a truly awesome AF writer, who inspired me to start writing again.  
  
Archiving: Let me know where, I'd be honored.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. I thrive off it, and if I get enough chapter one may be appearing tomorrow.  
  
AN: I'm not sure this is my best work, so don't judge the whole story based on this. The next chapter will probably be better.  
  
This is set years after Not Fade Away, how many I'm too lazy to figure out. The world has changed. The AI gang aren't all the same people they were before. And Wesley only SEEMED to die and actually recovered upon being given medical care.  
  
Prologue  
  
2008  
  
There was a shape in the lightning, a form in the mist. The woman ran through the pounding rain, her hair flying across her face and settling there, growing matted with the water.  
  
But the woman did not seem to notice the rain, it didn't matter to her. There were far, far worse things than rain.  
  
And some of them were chasing her tonight.  
  
She ran down an alley, her feet falling with a scattered, terrified rhythm against the concrete. She gasped for breath, filled only with the urge to RUN the urge to escape.  
  
Without warning a shape flew into view at the end of the alley. She could see that it was a man, clad in the blue uniform that belonged to Los Angeles self-proclaimed finest.  
  
Or at least it had once.  
  
The man said nothing, but flung his hands out before him, clutching something in them. The woman saw that it was a gun.  
  
He was about to tell her to freeze, about to arrest her.  
  
And so the girl flung herself into him, disarming the gun quickly. The cop's face contorted with fury and something else. Disgust. His lips synched and formed a single word.  
  
"Freak."  
  
He would have gone on, but the woman rammed her fist into his throat. When it came out, it was hot and sticky and wet with his blood.  
  
Because she was a monster too, in her own way. She hadn't wanted to be, she'd never wanted to be, but she was anyway.  
  
She ran out into the storm, almost sobbing at what had become of her, of those she loved, and of the world.  
  
The phone rang, jangling on its hook.  
  
It was, at the very least, an unusual occurrence.  
  
The dark man reached for it quickly, before the sound it made could carry to the street outside. He lifted the receiver to his ear. He said nothing. He made no sound whatsoever, not even breathing. He had no need to breathe.  
  
The voice was slow to come over the other end of the line, almost hesitant, as if the speaker was unsure that he truly wished to speak.  
  
"Hello, Angel."  
  
The voice was soft, cultured, and tinged with a British accent. It continued  
  
"No, don't say anything, I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. I shouldn't know this contact number. If you say anything, then I am obligated by law to place you under arrest.  
  
I'll make this brief. Faith has been located and is currently resisting arrest on the east sector. I thought you should know."  
  
A voice came from the background.  
  
(detective Wyndam-Pryce!)  
  
"One moment!"  
  
The voice spoke into the phone again.  
  
"I can't guarantee it won't be me trying to take her. Just save her, Angel."  
  
The last was a whisper.  
  
(click)  
  
Angel reached for his coat, not looking at the phone, from which he had heard his best friend's voice for the first time in years. 


	2. Chapter one

The Defense  
  
By The Shadower  
  
Chapter One  
  
Faith crouched in the rubble, trying not to breathe. It was difficult; the bullet wound hurt like hell, and there was emotional pain too. Because she'd seen Wesley. Seen his face, intense with confliction, among her pursuers.  
  
And he had shot her. When he got the chance, he had shot her.  
  
She'd known Wesley was a cop. She knew he'd been assigned to LA and that she might be seeing him soon. And she knew she'd hurt him, caused him unimaginable pain, but some small part of her had been hoping that he still cared enough about her to let her go. Apparently not.  
  
So she crouched in the rubble and tried not to breathe, and listened to the pounding of feet and the sirens outside.  
  
Angel tilted his head upwards and sniffed the air. Yes, Faith was nearby, somewhere. And she was afraid. He could smell that much.  
  
He tried to ignore the complicated emotions brought on by the smell, but they surfaced anyway.  
  
It was Faith. Faith! He was going to see her again, to see her soon.  
  
When he had been forced into hiding, he had often thought of those he left behind. He might have expected to obsess over Buffy or Cordelia, but he was surprised when he found himself thinking so much about Faith. He would wonder how she was, where she was living now, and how she was dealing with the world.  
  
There was a tenderness to these thoughts, one he had never felt before, and it scared him. He couldn't afford to get attached again, especially to a woman he hadn't seen in four years.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Angel turned to see a cop, a uniform with blond hair, looking suspiciously at him.  
  
"You aren't supposed to be here!"  
  
In the old days Angel would have felt regret over what he was about to do. Now there was no time for regret.  
  
Without another thought he rammed his hand into the cop's jaw. The cop fell, blood pouring from his mouth, making small sounds deep in his throat.  
  
Angel looked down at him for a second, then turned back and started to follow Faith's scent.  
  
AN: I know the plot isn't moving very fast here, I promise something major will happen next chapter. Thanks to all who reviewed, and thanks to Gemini-Moon1 and Akasha7 for keeping the AF pairing alive. Without them this never would have been written. I advise you to go read their work as soon as you can.  
  
Reviews are appreciated, sorry I haven't responded to previous reviews individually, I barely had the time to write this and get it posted.  
  
The Shadower 


	3. Chapter Two

The Defense  
  
By The Shadower  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, I don't own it, ect. Ect. That was a waste of time.  
  
Distribution: I would be honored, but please tell me where so I can look it up there.  
  
AN: Thanks to everyone for reviewing, personal responses should be posted at the end. I'm sorry I've been so late in updating this, I feel best writing late at night and my parents have just given me a bedtime, which is really inconvenient. I should be updating more regularly soon though.  
  
Dedication: To Gemini-moon1, again, and to Akasha7, and to kitty- kat12. The new wave of AF writers who've brought the ship back to life. Thank you for inspiration and writing AF for me to read.  
  
Feedback: No, I hate feedback, I prefer it when people buy bridges from me. George Bush is a genius and a hero. The sun doesn't rise in the morning.  
  
Or to be clearer, yes I would appreciate feedback.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Angel supposed that if he could breathe, he would have been panting. As it was he was struggling to remain running at this pace, but he needed to find Faith and find her fast. It was lucky, he mused, that he hadn't run into any more cops. He might have had to kill them, and he still didn't like killing humans, no matter how necessary it was.  
  
He came to the building and stopped. Police were everywhere, but he couldn't find Wesley among them. Just as well, he supposed. He'd risked his friend's job enough for one day, and seeing Wesley would only serve to open old wounds.  
  
Pushing away the memories that threatened to take over his brain, he began to search for a way into the barricaded ruin.  
  
Faith clutched her wound, trying not to cry out at the pain. There wasn't any point to hiding out here much longer; the wound would make her unable to fight, and sooner or later they would find her.  
  
She noticed a window and looked out. The street below was empty of people, cops or otherwise. Taking a deep breath, she hurled herself through the glass and onto the empty street...  
  
And hit the pavement hard. Looking up she realized the street wasn't completely empty after all. There was a man standing there, and Faith almost gasped as she recognized his face...  
  
Angel had been shocked to see Faith come through the window, and now he found he couldn't move. He simply stood and stared at the specter from a past he sometimes cared not to remember.  
  
The doctor was bald, clad in a white coat and very professional looking. He looked at his clipboard studiously for a moment, then up at the man sitting on his examining table.  
  
"Good news, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce."  
  
The voice was professional, having lost any hint of warmth it had once possessed.  
  
"You will indeed live. There is almost no internal bleeding, and that which remains we can fix easily."  
  
Wesley smiled slightly at this. He had too much internal bleeding, too much pain inside. So much pain that he'd allowed the fifth vampire to get the drop on him, because some part of him wanted to die, wanted it all to end. He'd taken out the other four like a good cop, but some corner of his mind had been hoping the fifth would kill him. Apparently no such look.  
  
The doctor continued.  
  
"But there is some bad news, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Some noticeable damage seems to have occurred to your spinal cord. I'm afraid we can't fix it."  
  
Wesley looked at the doctor questioningly. Perhaps today would be the day he died after all.  
  
The doctor responded to Wesley's stare:  
  
"There shouldn't be any life threatening consequences, but I'm afraid you'll be confined to a wheelchair."  
  
Wesley looked away, uncomfortable. Being in a wheelchair would make his job as a cop a lot harder. Tonelessly, he asked  
  
"For how long?"  
  
The doctor looked at him, with something like pity in his eyes.  
  
"For the rest of your life."  
  
So how good was it? Give me reviews! And here are responses to earlier reviews:  
  
Gemini-moon1: Thank you for your support and inspiration in this.  
  
Kitty-kat12: Wow, thanks. Actually we don't see Wes shoot Faith in chapter one, we never actually see it happen, just hear Faith make reference to it.  
  
Maliek: Thanks.  
  
Imzadi: Yes, I intend for this to be at least AF sympathetic and probably a LOT more. And thanks for the idea about Lindsey (I assume you meant Lindsey). I have no plans to include him yet, but I'm thinking about it if I can figure out how he fits in. As for Kate, I think I have an idea how I'm going to put her in so thanks for that idea too.  
  
m: Glad you love AF. All will be told eventually, and I've got some ideas I'm really excited about.  
  
Tp96: Glad you enjoyed it.  
  
WingDing9:Glad you like AF. I have some interesting plans for how people are going to end up in this future, one person in particular.  
  
clcountry: I'm happy you enjoyed it, thank you for reviewing. Wes should play an important part in upcoming events, so I'm glad you like his character.  
  
Now get out there and REVIEW!  
  
The Shadower 


	4. Chapter Three

The Defense

By The Shadower

Chapter Three

Disclaimer: See previous chapters

Distribution: Greatly appreciated, but please let me know where so I can look it up.

AN: First of all, I owe everyone an apology for taking forever to update. I've been depressed and there have been some problems, but I'm writing again and I'm sorry it took so long. Also, I would like to thank all of my reviewers, particularly kitty-kat12, for getting me to write this.

Dedication: To Gemini-moon1, someone I'm WAY late with reviewing, and a great AF writer. And to kitty-kat12 and LectersLittleStarling, who are reminded me of this story and pushed me into writing this chapter.

Feedback: Have you ever, EVER, seen a fanfiction writer who didn't live off feedback? What I thought.

Chapter Three

The first thought that entered Angel's head upon seeing Faith was that she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

He shook his head to clear it. He had more important things to be thinking about. Faith had just come crashing through a window. He could smell her blood. Was she hurt? He saw she was clutching her left shoulder, trying to pressurize the wound there.

Faith wanted to say something, but she was finding it hard to speak. This was Angel. Here. Now. She was seeing him for the first time in five years. She wanted to go to him, let him take her in his arms and make it all okay.

But there wasn't time. She had to get away before the cops figured out where she'd gone.

Then it hit her. The cops. She'd killed one of them, maybe more.

Angel took a step toward her, hesitantly extending a hand.

"Faith?"

Panic surged through her. She couldn't do this, couldn't deal with this right now. With a choked sob, she turned and ran out of the alley and into the night.

Angel strode up to the apartment and opened the door without knocking. He crossed over the threshold without difficulty, entered the room, and shut the door.

It was only then that he looked at the man sitting in the middle of the room. Four years of separation were contained in a single word.

"Wesley."

"Hell, Angel."

"The last time I saw you, you were walking."

"Three days ago I was dispatched to slay five vampires in an abandoned building on fifth. One of them got the drop on me and damaged my spinal cord."

Angel nodded, saying nothing.

"From the reports of the officers on the scene, I would guess that you don't have Faith."

"I saw her. She saw me. She ran."

"And you have no idea where she is."

"No. Why would she run? Did she think I was going to hurt her?"

"She's probably not thinking very clearly, running on instinct. Everyone is a threat."

"I -we- have to find her."

"I'm aware of that, Angel. However, the places Faith could have run to are limitless. There are only so many police, and you have little chance of finding her on your own."

"So what are you suggesting, Wesley!? That we just give up, stop searching 'cause she's too hard to find?!"

"I had a different idea."

Angel waited. Wesley paused for a long moment, then plunged ahead.

"The week before Faith escaped, a new prisoner was transferred onto her cellblock. He may have had something to do with her escape."

"So you get this guy, interrogate him, hurt him if you have to, and he tells us what we want to know."

Wesley paused, looking unsure once again.

"This particular prisoner won't be vulnerable to that type of pressure."

Wesley slid a manila folder from his jacket pocket and handed it to Angel. Angel opened it and looked inside, then paused for a long moment.

"Have you talked to him?"

"If you think there's any chance he would talk to me, I'll see him tomorrow."

Angel stared at Wesley, an odd expression on his face. Almost a smile, but one that didn't touch his eyes.

"That's why you contacted me, isn't it. You want me to talk to him."

"There's a decent chance he'll talk to you. I can get you in, if you're willing to try."

Angel thought about the terror in Faith's eyes as she turned to run from him.

"I'll do it."

AN: Obviously, I owe a great debt to Thomas Harris who inspired a large part of this. Please let me know what you think by reviewing, it helps me update quicker.

Kitty-kat12: Thank you for adding this story to your archive, I'm honored. Regarding your earlier question about your Angel/Faith shipper board, I am again honored. Could you tell me the address? I'd love to see it.


	5. Chapter Four

The Defense

By the Shadower

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. WHEDON owns these characters. LEVIN is an idiot and I refuse to acknowledge his existence beyond that.

Feedback: The feedback is the blood! The blood is the life!

A/N: I haven't written in a while. I apologize. I hope to write more very soon if I receive good feedback. Also, to Gemini-Moon1, please write more. Your work is an inspiration to AF writers everywhere, and you should continue it.

Thanks to all those who reviewed, I'm sorry I don't have time to write personal responses but I'm on a time limit. Personal responses next chapter.

Chapter Four

"

You can't hurt me

You can't stop me

You can't beat me

You can't break me"

-Drowning Pool

Faith hunched over, struggling not to cry. Angel had worked so hard, done so much for her, for her redemption, and now she'd killed again.

The lead that had hit her stomach when she'd taken out the cop was nothing to what she felt now. God, he'd even gone against Buffy's wishes because he thought she could be helped. And now she'd betrayed his faith in her, betrayed _him_.

He must hate her now. How could he feel anything else?

Angel exhaled softly as he finished the walk down the cellblock to the cell he wanted. He was here now, and he needed his wits about him if he was to help Faith.

He stared at the still form before him, reclined on the bed with eyes closed, seemingly asleep. Angel knew better. He could sense the awareness, the alien intelligence working before him.

He reflected for a moment that once, that mind hadn't been so alien to him. Once he'd known this thing that had once been a man better than any other in the world.

But that was then, this was now, and now was not the time for reminiscing.

The eyes opened and the thing acknowledged him with a nod, but said nothing. Angel searched for a way to open the conversation, and decided to go with honesty.

"Faith is missing. I want to find her so I can help her."

He paused, waiting for the thing to speak, but there was only silence.

"You said something to her, didn't you? Helped her escape, maybe?"

A spark flashed through the formerly dead eyes.

"Slayer was bein' kept locked up. Not bloody well fair. She did her time, she got herself out, an' now she has to go back, just because she's a slayer."

Angel focused on what Spike was saying, trying to ignore the fact that this was the first time he'd heard his childe's voice in over four years.

"Where is she, Spike? I _need_ to find her."

Spike was silent.

"What, do you want _them _to find her first? To do to her what they did to Dru?"

"I think it's time for you to leave."

Spike's voice was different now, holding no trace of the accent that had once fit him like a color. Angel looked at his eyes and saw that they were cold, dead, emotionless. Almost like the eyes of an old man, but there was something else there. Something inexplicable.

Without a word he turned and left the cellblock.

Five hours later, they would find a mess of blood and gore entangled with something that might once have been a guard's uniform. They would immediately begin to inventory the prisoners, to ensure that all were where they were supposed to be.

Ten hours later, a search of William Hawke's cell would reveal a shank fashioned from a bandage and a shard of broken plate, caked with blood.

It would be fifteen hours before the necessary police could be gathered together and the hunt would begin.

By then, Spike would have disappeared off the face of the earth.

A/N: As I am in ignorance as to Spike's real last name, I have invented one. This is also a tribute to Robert Parker and his brilliant character of the same name, though I have altered the spelling.

Also, before you ask, there may be some B/S later in the fic but I can't promise anything. This is and always will be predominantly an A/F fic, and while Spike will play a significant role, I am still considering Buffy's and have no decisive plans as of yet.

Oh, and Lindsey IS going to be in this fic, I just haven't gotten to him yet.


	6. Chapter Five

The Defense

By The Shadower

Chaper Five

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

AN: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Life is crap and then you die, but I haven't died yet so I'm stuck dealing with the crap.

Feedback: Greatly appreciated, as it's the fuel that keeps me writing.

Archiving: I'd be deeply honored. Please tell me where so I can visit it.

"Despair, Emptiness,

See the hatred wasted on yourself

Face down, Taste the dust

Getting harder every day

Just to find a reason not to end it all yourself"

Slayer, "Cast Down"

A single gunshot.

In the end, that had been all it took.

Sometimes, on nights like these, when he's so drunk he can barely think straight, Wesley wonders how. He supposes that perhaps it is his training as a Watcher coming back to haunt him. Because, in the academy, they taught him always to ask how. How and where and who and what, but never why. Never why.

It was better, for them, to be served by those who could not question.

And so, until tonight, Wesley has not even thought to ask why he did it.

He's asked how, of course, how a single gunshot could do the job when no force could even begin to, before. He hadn't found an answer.

Until tonight.

Because tonight, drunk off his ass and having, only a few days before laid eyes on Angel for the first time in years, tonight, when he'd taken steps to save a young woman who'd tortured him back in the days when he was still trying to find himself…

Tonight, he's asked why.

The answers he's gotten back are all unsatisfactory: He'd been doing his job, he'd been ordered to, he'd been taking revenge for Fred.

But he'd thought nothing of going outside his job and turning his back on his orders tonight.

And he'd acknowledged long ago that Illyria could not have been held responsible for Fred's death.

In the end, the answer was simple and insane:

He couldn't bare to have someone else he loved taken from him, whether by the government, by the forces of darkness, or, he thinks with a mirthless smile, by a mystical parasite that had once been a god.

And so, when the time came, he'd killed her himself rather than risk her being taken by others.

He can still see the shock in her eyes, the betrayal, and he knows that must have been what killed her.

Knowing she'd been betrayed by her guide, by the only human she'd ever trusted or cared about.

And so Wesley takes another drink, hoping to wipe from memory the woman he'd know as Illyria.

Faith clutched her injured stomach, trying to force her legs forward. It couldn't be much farther, she'd been running for hours.

She stumbled over something lying in her path, and fell onto her face. She groaned softly, unsure if she would be able to get up again, when suddenly a smell hit her nostrils. A pungent stench of rotting garbage.

She managed to roll onto her back, and found that a large dog was sniffing her leg. When she moved, it jerked back away from her and let loose a string of ear-splitting yips.

A smile came to her lips. She had to be in the right place, now. On the fringes of her vision she could see several other large shapes, which she assumed to be more dogs, surrounding her. The smell was stronger than it had been before, and she was now fairly confident that she was in a junkyard.

She'd come to the one place Angel would never think to look for her.

Her smile widened when a familiar, brown-haired head came into view.

"Hey," she whispered.

His eyes held mild surprise, but displayed no great shock.

"Hey. The last time I saw you, I wasn't exactly the person to come to in a crisis."

Faith snorted.

"Fuck, that was eight years ago. Things are different now. The worlds in shambles, there're a lot of people who'd like to know where you live, and I need a place where I can be sure Angel won't find me."

He paused, looking at her uncertainly. She barked out a harsh sound that might, by some stretch, qualify as a laugh.

"C'mon, Lindsey, please, for old time's sake."

He smirked at that, but picked her up and began walking, she presumed to take her inside. As he carried her, he asked, "How'd _YOU_ find me, anyway?"

"A guy in the joint told me. You might know him. Vampire, all soulful as of about six years ago, goes by the name of Spike?"

AN: Hey, Imzadi! I finally got Lindsey in! Thanks for your diligent reviewing. Thanks also to Night Essence and The Asylum, your reviews were greatly appreciated. Sorry there's no Spike or Angel in this chapter, but I hope to remedy that next time. Now, I heard somewhere that only three out of every hundred readers review. Are you special?


	7. Chapter Six

The Defense 

By The Shadower

AN: Sorry it's taken me this long to update. Real life can be really screwed up sometimes. I hope to have my next update sooner.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything I don't own.

Archive: Yes, please, I would be honored, but please tell me where. I just like to know.

Feedback: Vital. Gives me the boost I need to update.

Dedication: To my reviewers. Especially Imzadi, kitty-kat12, and The Asylum who reviewed my last chapter, even though it took me forever to update. Imzadi, sorry there's no Lindsey in this chapter. He should be in the next one. Kitty-kat12, thank you for the suggestion, I'll probably use it, though this will definitely be primarily FaithAngel. FaithLindsey is maybe a good friendship and a useful plot device, but that's it.

Of the three officers, only one knew what he was dealing with. Or thought he did. In truth, Jeffries only knew part of what he was dealing with, but this did not prevent him from feeling superior to his fellows, more experienced and better armed.

To the other two, this was merely a mild situation at the checkpoint, a man who might have resembled the creature that had so recently broken out of prison. Perhaps, if they had been truly honest with themselves, they would have realized that the odds of this being anything other than that which they sought were astronomically small.

But five years of relatively harmless busywork combined with their intense desire for this encounter to be equally harmless altered their perceptions. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was merely a formality, something they had to do in order to earn their pay. This man wasn't the one they were looking for. He wasn't nearly imposing enough to be.

And really, how many blondes were there in the area in and around New York, anyway?

Even if this one had almost white hair, indicating that it had been bleached, which was something that was no longer commonly practiced.

To the two who were ignorant, he was merely a blonde man in black clothes, leaning absently against the barrier and staring at them in a fashion that indicated boredom.

To Jeffries, however, this was a very dangerous situation, and he couldn't alert his colleagues to this fact without alerting the creature on the other side of the barrier to the fact that he knew.

And if the creature- the one he knew to be Prisoner 17 knew that Jeffries could recognize his face, Jeffries was likely to end up dead.

All this was going through Jeffries' mind as soon as he recognized the creature. He'd assisted with the arrest of Prisoner 17, was one of the few cops to actually meet this legend- and live, anyway.

He struggled to keep his face blank as he stepped forward to ask for the creature's card, deciding that he had no choice but to let this pass, and that the only way he could live was if Prisoner 17 did not recognize him, did not have the slightest inkling that he knew.

He did not know that all his efforts to appear unconcerned with his enemy were useless.

She had done all the necessary research, examined every fact on every page of every report ever filed by any member of the Baltimore police. Perhaps, once, it would have seemed monotonous, but under the current circumstances it was a welcome escape from boredom.

After all, there was very little else for her to do. Plan and plot and consider and strategize, yes, but nothing to _do_ except stare at hazy images on computers that were practically antique, looking for information that might be useful for when her partner would finally escape.

She had turned up a good deal of potentially useful information. The officer in front, the fat one with the red face and doglike jowls, was harmless. He'd never done anything but Internal Affairs before the Exposure, and since that time he hadn't once been called to action.

The one flanking Jowls, he was nothing to worry about either. Far too young to have any dangerous memories. In fact, he had a childlike innocence about him that made him seem to be in his late teens, though she knew that he was, in fact, twenty-five. His birthday was in July, the sixteenth, to be precise, and he'd been an officer for only three of those sixteenths. He was married, had been for three years, and had a child on the way, sex as of yet undetermined.

It was the third that disturbed her. His face was all too familiar; he'd been an arresting officer six years ago, in Texas. _He had seen prisoner 17 before_.

And just like that, their fates were sealed. Of no importance were the wife and child of the young one, or the law offices that were about to be opened by the son of the older one. None of it was relevant now. The dangerous one- Jeffries, his name was- posed an intolerable threat.

Because he knew the identity of the man at the gate, Jeffries went down first. The others did not hear the shot that killed him, silenced as it was, and because he was hanging back, behind the others, his death would have gone unnoticed had it not been for the involuntary cry that escaped his lips when he fell.

In the time it took for their colleague's death to register, both of them were also on the ground.

Spike's face betrayed no emotion as he watched the officer's fall. It was only when he turned to greet their killer, that he allowed himself to smile.

She allowed herself to drop out of the tree she'd climbed an hour ago, just prior to the initiation of the checkpoint, and faced her partner. It had been too long since they had last met, and she was glad to see him now.

He opened his arms to her, and she stepped into his embrace, burying her face into the cloth of his duster.

"Hi, Spike," She said, her voice steady and controlled, yet holding just a hint of the exuberance that had once possessed it.

"'ello, Niblet."

Angel brooded. He had no leads, nothing left to go on. Spike was no longer accessible, and Faith apparently didn't want to be found, though her reasons for running eluded him. All in all, there was nothing he could do but sit and wait for clues that might never come. So he did what he did best.

Brooding about Faith was nothing new for Angel; his thoughts had been full of her all to often when she had been in prison. He had hashed and rehashed hopeless escape plans, looking for a way to get her out. Now she was out, and he had to find her. He had to help her face whatever inner demons she might still be dealing with.

Just as he'd been doing eight years ago, right up until the Exposure. He had continued to visit Faith in prison even after he'd taken control of Wolfram and Hart. She'd gone back after the battle with the First, determined to serve out her sentence, despite his assurances that she'd already had more than enough penance for her sins.

He'd wanted her out of prison and running Wolfram and Hart with him. Though he'd never actually voiced this idea to her, he'd always thought she would be an invaluable aid to him in his attempts to combat the firm's inherent corruption; after all, she knew almost as much about darkness as he did. She would have kept him grounded, kept the darkness from consuming him.

And he would get to see her every day; that had certainly entered into his thoughts.

With this on his mind, Angel rolled over in his bed and drifted into sleep.

He dreamed.

_The Madge lowered his hands and the lights disappeared. Shadows encompassed the Madge, pushing him out of view, but Angel had more important things to worry about. _

_Faith was on top of him. He felt himself shift to his vampire countenance at her nearness, at the heat of her body pressed up against his cold._

_And suddenly he needed to feel more of her heat. He needed her closer- closer-_

_Helpless against himself, he pulled her mouth down to his, and the world seemed to explode. He knew nothing, felt nothing but her._

_He felt something digging into his back suddenly. He broke off the kiss with great reluctance to see he was in his office at Wolfram and Hart. Faith let out a moan at the lack of contact, and opened her eyes._

_He felt electricity crackle as their gazes locked. Faith seemed to gasp for breath for a split second, then grinned at him and gestured to the office around them. God, he loved her grin._

"_Like what you see, Angel? I hope so, because it's all you'll have anyway."_

_And she was moving away from him, moving toward the window. She now appeared terrified, as she had in the alley, bringing up her hands to guard against him._

_He wanted to tell her that he wouldn't hurt her, that she was safe, but all that came out was a low growl. He realized, to his horror, that he was still in Vamp Face._

_Faith dove out the window behind her and into the night. Running to the window, he managed to catch a glimpse of her running out of the alley below, before she disappeared._

_He threw his head back and screamed._

And woke up.

Damn, that one had been especially bad.

This wasn't the first time Angel had dreamed about that night, years ago, when, while trying to see if Faith was working for the Mayor, Angel had been required to kiss her. It wasn't the first time he'd thought of it, either.

He'd been all too eager to take the assignment at the time, an eagerness which he'd preferred not to examine, and still didn't. And when he'd kissed her, even pretending to be Angelus, it had been-

No.

He forced his thoughts away from that subject. It wasn't proper and it wasn't smart. He couldn't feel that way about Faith. He was her mentor, her rock in the trauma of her mind, and she needed him to be something free of selfishness. Something honest, and good.

Never mind that she'd ran from him in the alley.

Faith would never see him that way, she _shouldn't_, and that was good.

So the dream didn't really mean anything. Other than that he was worried about her. And that he was nervous about what was left of Wolfram and Hart. That was all.

AN: Now, please review. I don't know if this is going to be Spawn or not yet. It might be, I have nothing against Spawn, but I haven't really decided. Also, I really appreciate suggestions, and any constructive criticism is also wanted, if you have any. Thank you.

I do not see the ship as pedophilic in nature, indeed, I cannot as I am the same age as Dawn on the show. However, if you have a seething hatred for Spawn, or have another, conflicting ship you want to see, please let me know. (Yes, I am considering Spuffy)


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